A Prayer for Charlie Pace
by falafel-fiction
Summary: An AU story in Two Parts. Desmond saves Charlie from drowning, but when Charlie falls gravely ill Desmond fears that he may have made a mistake in robbing him of his destiny. COMPLETE. Make of the ending what you will.
1. Chapter 1

**A Prayer for Charlie Pace****  
****  
****Summary:** An AU story in two parts. Desmond saves Charlie from drowning in the Looking Glass, but when Charlie falls gravely ill Desmond fears he may have made a mistake in robbing him of his destiny.

**Characters: **Desmond, Charlie, Hurley, Sawyer, Sayid, Juliet, Jin and Bernard.

**Author's Notes:** A bright spark pointed out to me that in a pressurized underwater station the water flooding into the coms room would have only risen to just above the porthole. There should have been a substantial air pocket between the window and the ceiling. I thought I'd use this as the basis of an AU fic in which Charlie escapes drowning.

Part 1: The Air Pocket  
  
Charlie's hand slipped from the glass...his face disappeared behind a stream of bubbles as he released his last breath...

Desmond turned away from the door. He didn't wish to intrude on Charlie's final moments. He could no longer stand to watch. He fell to his knees, gasping and whimpering, his blood running cold. Then in numb movements he rose to his feet and began climbing into the diving gear. He couldn't stay in this place. He could not linger here while his friend was drowning in the next room. His head span and tears blurred his vision as he wondered if Charlie's heart had stopped beating yet or whether he was still writing songs in his mind...

He staggered over to the brink of the moon pool, glancing over the blood-stained floor and the blankets covering the bodies of the two hostiles who had bound Charlie to a chair and beaten him. His stomach lurched. He looked back at the door to the communication room._ I can't just leave him down here,_ his mind insisted. The least he could do was to recover Charlie's body so he could be given a funeral service and a burial.

Desmond plunged into the water and swam around the station walls searching for the porthole window. On his way he noticed a disembodied arm slowly sinking through the water. He supposed it belonged to the man with the eye-patch. The man who had killed Charlie. Desmond's stomach turned once more as he remembered having that bastard at gunpoint in the jungle. Charlie had been the one who warned him this man would be back...that Desmond should have killed him when he had the chance. Desmond wished that he had listened.

Desmond located the porthole and swam through. He was shocked when his head broke the surface of the water. There was an air pocket between the window and the ceiling. _Of course. _The station was pressurized. The sea level would only rise as high as these openings. Desmond tore the snorkel away from his face and squinted through the shadows of the flooded chamber.

Charlie was floating in a corner. His chin was resting above the lapping water. His eyes were closed. He was shuddering and bracing himself. Desmond could see clouds of chilled breath seeping through his lips and nostrils.

_He's alive_, he thought. _He's still bloody alive!_

"Oh Jesus…" Desmond murmured, shakily. "Are you alright, brother?"

Charlie's eyes fluttered open. He blinked in confusion.

"What are you doing, Des?" he asked, a hint of alarm in his voice.

"I…I came round to get you. Come on, mate. I'll help you swim back up to the boat. You can take the snorkel. Come on, let's go…"

Desmond held out his hand, but Charlie recoiled, backing further into the corner.

"You're changing things!" Charlie protested. "If things don't happen the way you saw them, the vision will change! There won't be a rescue…"

"Listen brother..." Desmond faltered. "How could it possibly change things? Your friends are up in the hills and the sunlight. We are down here in the cold and dark. How can we effect what happens to them? We can't! So come on will you..."

Charlie wasn't convinced. "You said I_ have_ to die…you told me that…"

"Well now I'm telling you that you don't!" Desmond snapped, growing impatient. "Christ! You can't expect me to just leave you here!"

Charlie's eyes were wide and blazing. Desmond saw in this moment that Charlie desperately wanted to live, but his desperation to protect Claire and Aaron was far greater. He loved them more than life itself.

"It's my destiny…" Charlie said simply, his voice numb with acceptance. "…I have to die so they can be saved…I need to…"

"What you need to do, brother…" Desmond interrupted, "…is get back to the beach camp and tell your friends about _this_!"

He seized Charlie's wrist and pointed at the inky blur on his palm. Charlie tried to wrench himself free from Desmond. He shoved against his chest, but his arms were weak and feeble. Desmond was much quicker and stronger. Without thinking, he rammed his fist into Charlie's face. His head slammed against the metal wall and he slumped, unconscious. Desmond caught him around his waist, holding him above the water. He regretted hitting him, but it seemed knocking Charlie senseless was the only way to settle this. Charlie of all people would understand. Desmond's cheek was still smarting where he had been struck with the paddle.

Desmond strapped the snorkel over Charlie's head, forcing the mouthpiece between his lips. Then taking several gulping breaths from the clammy air in the flooded room, Desmond ducked underwater and swam through the porthole, dragging Charlie with him. Once they were out of the station, Desmond started kicking frantically, one arm reaching up for the light that hung above the surface of the ocean. It was a good thing that Charlie wasn't a heavy guy. The combined weight of their jeans made the swim taxing enough. His body ached for oxygen. He knew that he could breathe much sooner if he just let Charlie go. But he wasn't going to do that.

Desmond's face burst through the waves. He sucked the salted air into his lungs and squeezed his eyes shut against the dazzling sun. He was still clutching Charlie to his chest. He treaded water and pressed his fingers to his friend's neck. There was still a pulse. It was slow and faint, but it was still there…

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After Desmond had pulled the outrigger into land, he hauled Charlie out onto the beach and shook him into wakefulness. Charlie took one look at Desmond and then rolled over onto his side, moaning like a wounded animal. Desmond grasped his arm, coiled it around his neck and yanked him to his feet.

"Come on, Charlie…" Desmond insisted, forcing him to walk. "We have to get you back to camp and show your friends that you're alright. Then you can rest, okay? Just a wee bit further, brother…"

Charlie's head and arms hung limp like a puppet whose strings had been severed. He stumbled along reluctantly at Desmond's side.

"You should've left me..." he said in a dull whisper.

Desmond hissed through his teeth in mounting frustration. "Charlie, if I could bring myself to stand back and let you die then we wouldn't be in this mess in the first place, now would we?"

"It's just gonna keep happening again and again," Charlie reasoned, making an annoying habit of using Desmond's words against him. "You can't stop it forever…"

"Well, I can try," said Desmond, attempting to sound cocky. "I'm in a routine now, Charlie. If we get rescued you and me will have to be neighbours. That way I'll be close enough to save your life whenever I need to."

Desmond forced a smile, but his attempts at cheering Charlie's spirits were falling flat. He quietened and concentrated on the walk. After a few more yards, Charlie's knees buckled and he collapsed in the sand, wheezing and retching. A spurt of red foam shot from his mouth. Desmond realised with alarm that he had swallowed a lot of blood and seawater. He was also chilled to the bone. Desmond gingerly reached down to touch one of his bare feet. He was dismayed to find it was cold as a slab of ice.

This was bad. Charlie was showing symptoms of hypothermia and frostbite. Hardly surprising after he had spent the night tied to a chair in wet clothing. Desmond wondered if he should run to camp and call for help, but he was paranoid about leaving Charlie. Instead he mustered up his last reserves of strength and lifted his friend in his arms, determining to carry him the rest of the way.

Now Desmond feared that he had made the wrong decision. It felt as though he had saved Charlie for his own sake. He started to realise that Charlie had been prepared for his death. He had made his peace and resigned himself. It was Desmond who couldn't accept it, who could not face it. He had dragged Charlie away from that station and up onto dry land, because it was much easier for him than going back alone with a damning sense of survivors guilt and nothing but a drenched list of memories to return to Claire. Apart from anything else Charlie was his closest friend on the island. Desmond wasn't ready to deal with those feelings of loss and loneliness again.

Desmond squinted ahead of him. In the distance, he saw Hurley, Sayid and Sawyer standing on the beach together; the three of them huddled around a radio. Desmond lowered Charlie onto his feet and urged him to walk. For some sentimental reason Desmond wanted Charlie to _walk_ back into their camp, to hold his head up high and to meet his friends as a returning hero. But Charlie's eyes were hollow, his footsteps were leaden and he couldn't stop his weary limbs from shaking.

Hurley lifted his head to see them approaching. His big cheery face broke into a delighted smile. He rushed towards them as fast as he could.

"Charlie! Desmundo!" he exclaimed. "Are you guys okay?"

"Well, what do you know?" said Sawyer, smirking and following after Hurley. "Looks like Shelly Winters lives to dive another day..."

Their smiles faded when they caught sight of the vivid bruises on Charlie's pale skin, the cuts that were bleeding afresh and the raised rope-burns that scored his arms. This together with the empty look on Charlie face was enough to tell them their mission had not gone smoothly.

"What happened?" Sayid asked immediately.

"Hurley…" said Desmond, handing Charlie over to his best friend. "Get him into some dry clothes. Wrap his feet up and have him lie down under some blankets. I'll be with you in a moment, brother..."

Hurley nodded rapidly, his face pinched with concern. He took hold of Charlie's arm and helped him towards the tents. Sayid and Sawyer remained with Desmond, their expressions grave and pensive.

"Who messed him up?" Sawyer asked gruffly.

Desmond sighed. "The station wasn't flooded. There were two hostiles down there. They caught Charlie on his way in, tied him to a chair and beat him. Then this Ben character sent the one-eyed man along to kill everyone – his own people as well as us. It all got a wee bit messy. But Charlie still managed to switch off the jamming device. Only…only we may have another problem…"

Sayid rolled his eyes. "What now?"

"Can I borrow the walkie, brother? I need to talk to Jack. It's about that Naomi girl. I don't think she's been entirely honest with us."

Sayid shook his head. "We've lost reception. As far as we know Jack is on course for the radio tower. He should have made contact with the rescue boat by now."

He swallowed. "Let's hope it _is_ a rescue boat then…"

Desmond watched the two men's faces darken with a familiar feeling of dread. After all that had been fought for and sacrificed this day it now looked like victory might be cruelly snatched away from them. Desmond's eyes looked beyond them to see Hurley and Bernard helping Charlie to lie down in Claire's tent. They were calling for Juliet to help them, seeming very distressed by their friend's condition. Now Desmond had the crushing sense that he had dragged Charlie away from his hero's death only for him to die an invalid shivering in his sickbed.

Desmond closed his eyes. He remembered seeing a glimpse of Penny's face on the screen in the coms room. He remembered Charlie's hand pressed up against the window with the message '**Not Penny's boat**' scrawled across his palm in black letters.

He sensed that fate was laughing at him...


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes:** The second part of this fic is dedicated to the spirt and philosophy of the 'Save the Junkie, Save the World' campaign. _This_ is what we were fighting for. _This_ is why Lost has been ruined for many of us. **  
**

  
Part Two: The Vigil 

Desmond and Juliet slipped through the flaps of Claire's tent. They had left Jin sitting with Charlie. The fisherman barely spoke two words of English, but he had a beautiful bedside manner. Charlie's head was tilted to the side, his glassy eyes watching as Jin spoke soothing words to him in gentle Korean.

Hurley had bundled Charlie up in every blanket they could find. Sawyer had given him two of their short supply of antibiotics. Sayid had examined his battered face and reported that neither his nose nor jaw were broken. Bernard noted that several of his teeth had been displaced, but he was certain he could fix them. Far more worrying was Charlie's fever and his laboured breathing.

Night had fallen, but Jack's group still hadn't returned to the camp. Desmond and Juliet wandered over to the fire where Sayid, Hurley, Bernard and Sawyer sat waiting for the verdict on Charlie's health.

"He has pneumonia…" Juliet told them, flatly.

Sayid sighed and bowed his head. Desmond paced before the fire, his muscles twitching with frustration. Hurley took a moment to absorb the news, then his face creased up and he burst into tears.

"This is my fault, man…" he sobbed, wretchedly. "First Libby, now Charlie…this always happens to the people that I care about. Fricking curse won't let up! You guys are gonna have to stay away from me."

"Hugo, don't take on so…" Sawyer muttered, irritably. "He's not dead yet! Come on, the guy's survived heroin withdrawal, being strung up from a tree…my guess is he'll shake this off like a bad cold."

"Remember where we are, son," said Bernard, placing a consoling arm around Hurley's shoulders. "This place has healing powers. If it can cure my Rose then it can make Charlie well again. Trust me, the island will save him."

"The island?!" Desmond spluttered, exasperated. "Brother, this place has been trying to kill Charlie for weeks! Lightning, arrows, rocks and floods…now that he is sick it will take the opportunity to finish him off! Just you wait..."

Hurley sniffled, tears streaming his cheeks. "So is this one of your visions, Desmond? Is Charlie really gonna die this time?"

Desmond sighed. "I'm sorry, brother. The universe just has a way of course correcting. I never stood a chance of saving your mate…"

Sayid rose to his feet, his brow wrinkled with confusion.

"What are you two talking about?" he asked.

Desmond and Hurley exchanged glances, realising they had said too much. Hurley's face hardened. He looked at Desmond expectantly.

"Tell them, dude!" he insisted.

Desmond winced. Suddenly all eyes were on him.

"Tell us what?" Bernard prompted.

Desmond swallowed. "Ever since the hatch imploded…I…I've been getting these _flashes_…these visions of things that happen in future. I know these visions are real. I've seen evidence of it. So has Hurley. Unless I do something to stop them, the visions always come true…" He sighed and shook his head. "Almost always these visions are about Charlie."

Sawyer raised his eyebrows. "You have visions…about Charlie?"

"Aye," said Desmond, annoyed by the cynicism in his voice.

Sawyer snorted. "Well…I knew there was something funny going on between you two. I figured it might be one of those British boarding school things..." He smiled conceitedly. "So…visions huh?"

"Visions of Charlie dying," Desmond explained, which was enough to wipe the smirk off Sawyer's face. "I have seen him die no less than five times now. For a while I was trying to save him, trying to stop fate from killing him. Then yesterday I told Charlie he would drown in that underwater station…but it would get everybody rescued." He glanced to Sayid. "That's why he took your mission, brother. He knew that he could do it. He wanted to save us all. He was prepared to give up his life for it. He would have died too if I hadn't fished him out of that room…"

Nobody spoke for a moment. Desmond could see that they were surprised. He had noticed Charlie was never treated with much regard by his campmates. They pushed him aside, snapped at him, talked down to him, ignored him...Desmond had done it himself. It was clear they never expected Charlie of all people would make such a heroic and important contribution to their rescue effort.

Bernard shook his head. "Charlie would have sacrificed himself for us?"

"_Damn_," said Sawyer. "I wouldn't have thought he had it in him."

"I can believe it," said Sayid. "Have you never noticed that scar on his forehead? I gave Charlie that scar. He had me pour gun-power into his wound and set it alight to stop the bleeding. He did this so he could rescue Claire's baby. If Charlie believed his death could ensure the safety of that girl and her child, then he would give his life without hesitation. Am I right, Desmond?"

Desmond nodded. Tears of bitterness welled in his eyes.

"He was tricked!" he hissed. "The universe was just tempting Charlie into his death with the promise that it would bring rescue. But that isn't the way of it! This girl, this Naomi…she's been lying to us! It's all a big scam! We're all trapped on this island, trapped here till we meet our fates!"

Desmond was storming around the campfire, waving his arms and yelling at the top of his voice. He felt like he was having an epiphany, but the others were looking at him like he was a raving madman.

"If Charlie dies tonight, then that's it! If he dies we can't change anything! So if it's your fate to die, if it's your fate to be cursed, if it's your fate to run away, if it is your fate to make mistakes, if it's your fate to take revenge or if it's your fate to be alone in this world…then you had all better make your peace and face up to it like he did. Because there'll be no use left in hoping!"

"Desmond, _shut up_!"

To everyone's surprise, Hurley got to his feet and slapped Desmond hard across the face. Desmond blinked and panted, reeling from the blow. Hurley glanced over his shoulder to Claire's tent, then turned back to Desmond with a stern look in his eyes. He wasn't crying anymore.

"I don't want Charlie hearing any of your doom talk, okay?" he explained, lowering his voice. "Whatever man! I don't care what you say. We can make our own luck. What we need is a little hope here."

With that, Hurley marched away from the campfire. They watched him as he made his way over to the framework of the church that Charlie and Eko had been building. He stood under the crossbeams and laced his hands together, bowing his head in prayer. After a moment, Bernard wandered over and started praying alongside him. The rest of them stood silence until Jin emerged from the tent and said the words "Err...Charlie…_sleep_". Juliet nodded and went to check on her patient.

Desmond rubbed his aching jaw. He watched as Sayid walked over to his tent, took out his prayer mat and found a quiet spot beneath the trees. Sawyer went to rummage through his book collection. He put on his glasses and came back to read before the campfire. Desmond glanced at the small leather volume in his hands. It was the New Testament. Sawyer shrugged.

"I just hadn't gotten around to reading this one yet," he reasoned, trying to mask his embarrassment.

Desmond nodded his head, acceptingly.

"Stick with it, brother. You may find it enlightening."

Sawyer frowned. "What are you…a monk?"

Desmond smiled, but he didn't answer him. He wandered down to the shoreline and sat staring over the ocean. He didn't feel the need to put his hands together or get down on his knees. Ever since the hatch implosion, his thoughts had been a constant prayer. Every day, Desmond prayed for God to let him leave this island. He prayed to be given another chance with Penny. He prayed for Charlie's life to be spared and he prayed for the flashes to stop.

Every single day Desmond prayed for these same things. Either God wasn't listening or God simply didn't care.

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Desmond felt a hand pressing his shoulder. He shook himself and rubbed his eyes, realising that he had fallen asleep over his knees. He looked around to see that the sun was beginning to lift above the horizon. It was cool shadowy morning time. He raised his head to see Juliet standing over him.

"His fever's broken..." she told him.

Desmond flinched, his heart catching in his chest. "Does that mean he'll be alright, sister?"

"I don't know," Juliet said, bluntly. "He's still very weak. The chill isn't helping. If he goes into sepsis, there won't be anything I can do. But he has a fighting chance. He's awake, if you want to talk to him."

Desmond nodded and wandered over to Claire's tent. On his way he noticed that the others were still sitting up in their private corners of the beach, looking solemn and reflective. Jin had joined Hurley and Bernard in their silent vigil under the frame of the church. Sayid was kneeling on his mat, staring vacantly into the distance, lost inside dark thoughts. Sawyer had stopped reading and was sat pinching the bridge of his nose. The Bible was lying open in his lap.

Desmond stepped through the flaps of Claire's tent. Charlie was lying under a mound of blankets. His bloodshot eyes watched the shadow play on the tarpaulin. The black hood of his sweatshirt was pulled up around his head. His pale skin glistened as though he were made of snow and melting from the world.

"Charlie…mate…" Desmond knelt down by his bedside. "I need to talk to you. I've had another one of my flashes…"

Charlie frowned at him. "What was it this time?"

Desmond smiled, whimsically.

"I saw you standing on the deck of a boat. Claire is with you, holding your hand. You're carrying little Aaron against your chest. He's tugging at your ears with his wee fingers. You and Claire are staring off into the distance. And you're smiling because…you can see the boat is coming into land."

Charlie returned his smile. "So then what happens?"

"That's it, brother," he answered. "That's the whole vision."

Charlie rolled his eyes and coughed a few times.

"Des…you're a _really_ lousy liar." His voice was rasping, heavy with exhaustion. "Like you ever see anything nice happening to me."

Desmond sighed and tipped his head.

"Just because I didn't see it…that doesn't mean it can't happen, Charlie. If rescue comes then you could still be a part of it."

"I'm dying, Desmond…" Charlie said, simply. And it was clear from his tone that this was no longer something Charlie believed because of the prophecies. This is something that Charlie _knew_ in his heart, in his very bones. "I won't be rescued, because I am going to die."

Charlie's face tensed and his eyes pooled with tears.

"I had a chance to make it…meaningful. _One chance_ to give my worthless bloody life some purpose. I could have died rescuing my friends. I could have died getting Claire and Aaron to a safe place…all I ever wanted to do was protect them. If I have to die then I wanted it to be for that reason. Why did you have to change it? Why did you take that away from me, brother?"

Charlie was really crying now. Desmond hadn't seen him like this before. He hadn't cried when Desmond first told him about his visions. He hadn't cried when Desmond kept coming back to him with more flashes and more deaths. He had kept a brave face through it all. He hadn't complained. Even now it wasn't his death that was upsetting him. He was upset for the people he wanted to save.

Desmond reached out and took his hand. He had wanted to take Charlie's hand and speak to him when he was underwater in the coms room. There was no glass separating them now. Desmond took a deep breath.

"Brother…" he began, haltingly. "What if I told you that there was a way for you to save every human soul on this island…by_ living_."

Charlie swallowed, his tears slowing as he listened.

"Your friends have been awake all night. They've been saying prayers…prayers for you and for themselves. If you die, brother…we're all as bloody doomed as you are. We're nothing but prisoners of fate. Your friends don't want to believe that, Charlie. They want to believe that you will live. They want to believe that the universe does not have power over you or over them. They want to believe that they are free. They want to believe there is hope in the world..."

Desmond exhaled, shaking his head. He hadn't realised the enormity of their situation until now. It was true though. Everything depended on this.

"So what I'm asking, brother, is…can you save us?" His voice was serious and imploring. "Can you save us all?"

Desmond shivered inside. Charlie had that look in his eyes again. The look that he had given Desmond when he had asked him where he could find the switch. People often underestimated Charlie, but if you gave him a purpose...if you just showed him the respect to entrust him with a mission...then he would see it through. Desmond smiled. He trusted that Charlie would see this through…

…or else he would die trying.


End file.
